Page 60 of Pulled Away

“Blondish. On a couch towards the back. The only one by himself.”

Well, that’s not creepy at all. You get the odd guy coming in alone, but mostly it’s groups. Bachelor parties, a group from work kicking back and looking for a good time. But guys by themselves? That feels different to me for some reason.

I patiently wait for my drinks, and then I’m winding my way between tables and couches, trying to unobtrusively glance towards Neve’s section. I stumble, almost falling over my feet, when golden brown eyes, simmering with anger, meet mine.

Ryan. He’s here, and he’s not happy. With a deep breath, I plaster my smile back on my face, continuing to the table and unloading my tray. I don’t have to try too hard with my not-too-friendly smile because it’s a good table. They’ve been respectful, thanking me for their drinks. They haven’t tried to stuff bills down my corset, or “accidentally” graze my butt cheek.

After checking that they’re happy, I head to another group to check on them. I’m off kilter, humiliation trying to crawl up my spine, knowing that Ryan’s here and seeing me like this. But I stiffen my spine. There is nothing wrong with what I’m doing, and anyone that thinks differently can go to hell. So, I cement my mask and toe that line of being too flirty while checking up on the rest of the groups in my section. But now that I know Ryan is here, it’s like I can feel his eyes on me, judging and finding me wanting.

He can’t keep his eyes off you.

Satisfied that everyone has what they need, I head back to the bar. I’m due for my break, and I’m so damn ready to take it. I just need a few minutes to sit, massage my feet, and regroup. Wearing heels while working is continents away from wearing them for a night out.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen.

“Aspen,” Ryan says, grabbing hold of my arm.

Before I can reply, Jordy’s by my side.

“This guy bothering you?” he rumbles, his hands already clenching at his sides.

“No, but thank you, Jordy,” I say, throwing him a reassuring smile.

He looks unconvinced, but steps away a few paces, leaning back against the bar.

Turning back to Ryan, I purse my lips, taking him in. Seeing him hurts. The upside to taking this job is that I’m so damn busy. I don’t have time to breathe, much less wallow in self-pity when I think of him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Carter told me you’re working here.”

Carter and I will be having words later.

“And? You thought tonight would be a good night to come check out the dancers? Rub it in my face that we’re not together anymore?”

I know I’m baiting him and by the narrowing of his eyes; he knows it as well.

“I’m not here for the girls.”

“Then why are you here? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m working,” I ask, exasperated, because I’m aware of every second of my thirty-minute break ticking away.

“I want to talk to you.”

“I thought we said everything there was to say.”

“No. You did. I didn’t.”

Talking to him is the last thing I want to do, but I eye the mutinous set of his jaw. I wouldn’t put it past him to stay until closing, and the thought of enduring his eyes on me all night…I just can’t. Best to just get it over with.

“Fine,” I sigh, and he’s hot on my heels as I lead him outside.

“So, talk. Time is ticking and every minute I spend with you is a minute I could be making money.”

“Aspen.” His voice is soft, sounding pained, his eyes jumping all over my body, lingering on all the bits that are exposed. They feel like brands, judging me and finding me wanting. I’m betting I’m a far cry from his precious Hadley.

Feeling vulnerable, I fold my arms across my chest. I don’t like that he’s here, seeing me like this.

And suddenly, I’m furious. I hate him. I hate that he’s here, that he’s been watching me all night. That our relationship led to this. It’s a hate, filled with excruciating pain, but hate nonetheless.

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